Jane, to put it mildly, was pissed. This was the third time this week, the seventeenth time this month, that she'd noticed someone had gone through her mail before it even arrived in her mailbox.

But how, you ask, could Jane tell?

Well, given her extensive background in police and detective work, and a better-than-average understanding of forensic science, Jane realized that someone was going through her mail, diligently, to bend every single envelope in three.

Is it weird? Yes. Does Jane understand why? Not on your life. Is she still certain it's happening? Absolutely.

So, after more than a month of this weird occurrence, Jane decided to use one of her rare days off to stakeout the mailboxes. She wanted to know how and why this person was digging through her mail.

She couldn't tell if bending her mail was all the perp did, of course, because it's hard to recognize the absence of something, particularly if you don't know it's there to begin with. She hadn't missed any bill payments or wedding invitations though, as far as she knew.

After speaking to the building manager, she'd discovered that the mail was delivered daily around 8 a.m., which partially explained why she never got it before she got home from work. She was in the office by eight, and if she had a day off, she didn't rise before noon. Also, she generally forgot the mail, opting instead to stay inside almost all day on the couch, or make a rare appearance at her mother's house when Frankie was also a free bird.

The only problem was that, given the layout of the building's lobby, there really wasn't anywhere for Jane to hide. There was a potted plant, but not big enough to hide behind, and she was no longer a delusional six year-old. Two chairs were there, but they were too far into the open. As she evaluated the options, the manager seemed to take pity on her and offered her the mail room. She could hide in there, peek through the little window, and wait there for the culprit. The only catch was that he wouldn't give her a key, so there would be no in-out privileges.

She could live with that, and shook his hand in thanks, before stepping through the door he opened.

It was... not great. It was kind of a trash heap with junk mail scattered all over the cracked tile floor. But she could see through a scratched little plexiglass window and that was all she needed.

She set up shop around 7:30, sipping her large coffee as she alternated between pacing the small room and peering into the lobby. A woman came down the stairs around 7:45, picked up a newspaper from the pile, and sat in one of the comfy chairs.

Eight o'clock came… and went. No mail, and Jane hasn't seen anyone but the woman who sat down fifteen minutes ago. She finished the paper she selected a couple of minutes ago. Jane wondered if the lady had even read it, or if she was one of those smarty-pants who read faster than the general populous. Instead, the woman—she was blonde, maybe mid-thirties, hair just past her shoulders—pulled out a small sheaf of papers from her messenger bag with the fancy logo.

Jane twirled the empty coffee cup in her fingers. She didn't think anyone would notice if it joined the dumpster that was the floor, but she was never one to litter. She put it down on the sill beneath the mailboxes, making a mental note to dispose of it.

Just when she was wishing she'd brought a book or a magazine, or something aside from spam mail postcards, the mailman walked in. Jane hunkered down in front of the window, making sure to keep her eye trained on him.

The blonde woman jumped up when she saw him, and thankfully the walls were thin, so Jane could listen in on their conversation.

"Hello, Ken!" the woman greeted, her back to Jane.

"Well, hi, Jane," the mailman replied, handing over a stack of envelopes.

"Thanks very much!" she said, rifling through the letters as the mailman kept going toward Jane and the mailboxes.

Jane watched just long enough to see the mailman leave, and for the lady to bend the first letter, before she darted out of the back room.

"Hey you!" Jane called loudly, striding toward the woman with purpose. The woman looked up, shocked, and looked side to side as if trying to find someone else Jane could be addressing.

Jane walked right up to her, looking down sternly into, honestly, some very nice hazel eyes, "Listen buddy, I know you snoop through my mail. I saw you. I just watched you. What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

The woman didn't move.

"Did you know it's a federal crime to tamper with mail?" Jane pressed on, getting even closer to the woman.

"And fraud is also a crime? You know, pretending to be someone you're not? Like how that mailman seems to think you're Jane Rizzoli, which I know for a fact isn't true because, guess what, I'm Jane Rizzoli!"

"I'm sorry!" The woman finally said. "I'm sorry, but I haven't stolen anything of yours, you get all the mail that comes in!"

"Then what the bloody hell are you doing?" Jane almost yelled.

"My daughter!" The woman blurts out, clearly panicked, before the explanation comes out. "We live in the building, she's seen you around, she wants to be police officer, a detective really, and she figured out that you're, you know, Detective Jane Rizzoli. She didn't mean any harm in it. We just moved here. But she subscribed to a police procedural periodical, only she's not old enough for it, and doesn't have a credit card to pay for it. So she put it under your name hoping they'd send her a free copy because, you know, you're you. It comes with a membership card. I already got her to cancel the subscription and apologize to the company, but they said they'd already mailed out the card, and I didn't want to bother you by explaining all of this, so I thought I could just try to find it without you knowing about it." She pauses for breath.

"She really didn't mean to commit fraud. She's eight. We haven't yet discussed the criminal code of the commonwealth of Massachusetts. I was saving that for ten, but I might have to reconsider." The last comment was said almost as an aside and Jane had to blink a couple of times to figure out that this woman was serious. She was actually going to teach a kid the criminal code.

"And I'm sorry about the mail, really I am, but when I met Ken for the first time and he asked me whose mail I was looking for, I said your name, and he assumed it was me, and now it's a whole thing, but I still haven't found the membership card. Maybe it actually got lost in the mail and all of this has been for nothing," The woman sucked in a breath, clearly still agitated and more than a little scared.

Jane sighed quickly. "Okay, okay, take a breath." She shook her head. "This is all because of your daughter?"

The woman nodded.

"What's her name?"

Without hesitation, the woman replied, "Margaret."

Jane nodded. "And what's your name?"

Jane expected some sort of pause, but none came. "Maura Isles."

Jane's expression turned shocked. "The new chief medical examiner?"

Maura almost grimaced. "Yes, I'm afraid so."

Jane evaluated the doctor, giving her the once-over. "Nice to meet you, Doctor Isles."

Stunned, Maura took a moment to respond. "You too, Detective Rizzoli."

Stepping back from the doctor, Jane said, "Okay, I'll forget about this entire thing…" Jane stared seriously into Maura's eyes, "but on a couple of conditions."

Maura nodded.

"First, don't ever do anything like this again. If you explain what happened, like you just did, not a lot of people are going to be upset that an eight year-old messed up. It happens."

"Oh, never again, I swear," Maura agreed at once.

Jane smiled a little. "Second, then, is stop going through my mail. If I get the card, I'll get rid of it."

Maura blushed and nodded again.

"Okay, and third, I want to meet her." Jane said, pushing her hands into the pockets of her slacks.

Maura tilted her head, taken aback. "You want to-"

Jane nodded. "Yeah, I want to meet the little rascal."

"Margaret."

"Yeah, Margaret."

"When?" Maura asked.

"Uh, well, today's my day off. And my next one is Thursday. I don't know about the week after yet."

"Would you like to come over for dinner? Tonight, I mean."

"Oh no, no need to go to any trouble on my part," Jane said, pulling her hands from her pockets and holding them up in front of her to say 'we're good.'

Maura took hold of Jane's hands. "Please, it's the least we could do, considering all the trouble we've caused you."

Jane looked down into those intense eyes. "I mean, it was no trouble."

"Detective Rizzoli, please let me and my 'little rascal' as you call her feed you." Maura said. Jane didn't need to know Maura in order to tell that the invitation didn't really leave any room for refusal.

"Okay, sure, that'd be great, thanks."

Maura smiled. "Excellent. Number 1103, seven o'clock?"

Jane nodded. "I'll be there."